


the nerve to touch my hand

by k0skareeves



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Jon Snow and the Starks Are Not Related, Romance, Some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21529219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k0skareeves/pseuds/k0skareeves
Summary: So what he’s going away? It’s not like they’re actually friends.So what if he spent the whole party talking to everyone but her? She won’t miss him.But did he have to date a girl with red hair?She hates him and his stupid face and his stupid girlfriend and his stupid track scolarship.But mostly she hates the way she doesn’t hate him. Not even close. Not even a little bit. Not even at all.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Robb Stark/Jeyne Westerling
Comments: 54
Kudos: 308
Collections: JonsaWeek2019





	the nerve to touch my hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inejcrows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inejcrows/gifts).



> I was bullied for not liking it's nice to have a friend by Taylor Swift. So I wrote this, and now I kinda like it.
> 
> Rated M for language.
> 
> For Jonsa Week Day 6 🥰 Prompt - Modern
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

She’s twelve when she gets detention for the most stupid thing.

Jeyne always sucked at Lit, so Sansa was simply trying to help her friend understand what the poem was about. Unfortunately, Mrs Mordane wasn’t having it.

Apparently, poems are for silent contemplation.

Now she has to walk home alone.

It’s almost December and the streets are covered in snow. Winterfell is always cold but now is colder and she passes through the gym’s back door on her way, searching desperately for her other glove inside her backpack, when she collides with something hard and falls on her butt.

Not something, someone.

Jon is their neighbor, Robb’s friend, the one with the dark curls and sad eyes, the one that lives on the small house down the street with his great uncle. He’s two years older and she never talks to him because why would she? It’s not like they hang out. Robb’s a freshman, he has no time to be paying attention to his little sister anymore, which is fine. She has Jeyne. She doesn't need Robb’s lame ass.

Her butt hurts and she knows she’s as red as a strawberry.

This day officially sucks.

“You need help?”

Jon offers his hand and she looks up. He’s wearing a black coat over a black hoodie, black jeans and black combat boots. Why is he always in black? Is he like an emo or something? His backpack is over one shoulder, the gym bag on the other. Oh right, he’s on the track team. She forgot that.

She takes his hand and he pulls her up without an effort.

“Thanks. And sorry, by the way. I didn’t see you.”

“That’s okay, you’re the one who fell. Why are you still here? Robb’s gone home ages ago.”

She rolls her eyes. “Detention.” He looks surprised and she feels her face get hotter. “Yeah, it’s whatever. And you?”

“Coach wanted me to do some extra training. He thinks I might get a shot at scholarships when I’m a junior.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

“Yeah.”

The silence is kinda awkward. She stares at her ungloved hand. Ugh, can this day get any worse? They stay there, facing each other, and she has no idea what she should say.

“So...you’re going home now?”

She looks up, sees him staring. “Yeah.”

“Walk together?” He gives a half smile. She smiles back.

“Sure.”

It’s so freaking cold. Her hand might fall off. She thinks she left her glove in the bathroom when she took it off to, well, but she’s not sure. They were her favorite gloves, the pink ones, the ones she knitted herself. And now she lost one pair. She’s never explaining anything to Jeyne ever again.

“So, detention huh?”

She looks at him ready to fight back for whatever stupid comment he has to say but he’s not making fun of her. He looks like he actually cares. That’s a first. Robb would’ve totally made fun of her by now. Maybe emo kids don’t know how to make fun of people.

“It’s so dumb, I was literally explaining a poem because my friend had trouble catching up. Mrs. Mordane sucks.”

“Oh, I get it. She once gave me detention for breathing too loud.”

Sansa looks at him, mouth open in half laugh half shock. “Wait, what?”

“I’m super serious, she said I was disturbing her thoughts or something. Robb couldn’t keep it together so she gave him detention too for having too much fun in class.”

They both laugh, Sansa even has to wipe her eyes out from the tears falling. Her hand is so cold. She wants to put it under her armpit for warmth but suddenly she’s embarrassed of Jon. She pretends to cough just so she can blow hot air in it.

“Hold on.”

He drops his gym bag, crouches down, starts looking through it. She watches him. He looks kinda funny, all dressed in black while surrounded by fluffy white snow. He finally grabs something and takes her hand.

“Jesus, you’re freezing, dummy. Why didn’t you say anything?”

She stays silent while he covers her hand with a huge black glove. It’s weird on her fingers from being so big, but she instantly feels warmer. Her face is on fire. He smiles at her, pleased with himself. Sansa thinks he’s adorable. She actually thinks emo kid is adorable. Jeyne would judge her so hard for it. But Jeyne doesn’t get poems and she bets Jon does. Emo kids are supposed to be sensible, right?

“Thank you.” She says with a smile.

Oh, he’s blushing. Now he’s even more adorable. He scratches the back of his neck, looks kinda embarrassed. “Uhh, no problem. Let's hurry, I don’t wanna be late for dinner.”

They walk side by side in silence. Sansa forgets her hand was cold.

Maybe the day didn’t suck so much.

* * *

She’s fourteen when the Starks have movie night every week during summer.

Jon’s always around. It’s like he and Robb are attached by the hip or something. And Arya absolutely adores him and begs him to play soccer with her. Also their mom actually thinks he’s a good boy or at least nicer than Theon Greyjoy and she actually baked him chocolate chip cookies once. So yeah, he’s around like, all the time, which sucks for Sansa.

It’s not like she hates him. She doesn’t. He’s a nice guy and all. A little less emo now, even. It’s just that his face is so...and his hands are so...and his voice is so...ugh, she hates him. The way he talks, the way he walks, the way he calls her preppy just because she’ll take both Trig and Algebra next year, even if she hates Math. Why is he always around? Doesn’t he have a house? Doesn’t he have other friends? Doesn’t he have someone else to bother?

She also hates the fact that he sits next to her every week on movie night. Which is fine. Really. It’s not like he smells bad or anything. But he whispers to her sometimes during the movie, clever little comments that always makes her laugh. Except she doesn’t wanna laugh, she wants to watch the movie! Is that so hard to understand? Also sometimes when there’s too many kids, because of course Robb would also invite Theon, and Sansa calls Jeyne, and Arya asks that kid with the weird nickname - it’s Hot Pie, isn’t it? Ugh, Arya has the lamest friends - to stay over and Bran brings Jojen home and in turn he brings his sister Meera and Rickon is just a baby but he can manage to take up so much space, Jon takes her legs and puts them on his lap so she can stretch them. How does he even know that she doesn’t like to keep her legs crossed? 

Also there was this one day, this one crazy day where he thought it would be super chill to just like, lay his head on her lap and take a nap. He took a freaking nap. During movie night. With his head on her lap. And Sansa stayed there, unable to move for an hour and a half, staring at the TV while having no clue what the movie was about. When it was over, Robb turned around and threw a cushion at Jon, teasing him for falling asleep and Jon simply smiled at her and said she had nice legs for napping. Who says that? Who the _hell_ says things like that?

She finally tells Jeyne about all of this and explains to her that they have to come up with a plan to end Jon Snow. Immediately. Jeyne asks for how long has she had a crush on him. 

Sansa can’t sleep for a week.

* * *

She’s sixteen when it’s time to Robb go away for college.

They’re having a barbecue at the house and she’s super sad. Joffrey dumped her ass two months ago and her life has been miserable ever since. Also her favorite brother - don’t tell Rickon - is going away for college and she’s never gonna see him again except on holidays and she hates it. Jon is also going away, which sucks, and guess what: he went and found himself a girlfriend.

It’s not like she cares. She was with Joffrey. She still sort of likes him, even if he humiliated her. She doesn’t give a shit if Jon Snow has a pretty girlfriend who he hangs out with all the time, meaning he’s never around the house anymore, meaning Sansa hardly ever gets to see him.

So what he’s going away? It’s not like they’re actually friends.

So what if he spent the whole party talking to everyone but her? She won’t miss him.

But did he have to date a girl with red hair?

She hates him and his stupid face and his stupid girlfriend and his stupid track scolarship.

But mostly she hates the way she doesn’t hate him. Not even close. Not even a little bit. Not even at all.

Safe to say Kat Stratford knew her shit.

She’s so mad, at Robb, at Jon, at herself, that she does something impulsive. It’s not really that impulsive, she is sixteen, apparently that’s what teenagers do, but it’s impulsive for her so she feels extra bold while doing it. She steals a bottle of vodka from the basement fridge. She goes up on the roof through Bran’s room. The sun is setting and the sky is pink. She takes several sips of the clear liquid. It’s awful. She immediately regrets it. She’s also kinda afraid of heights. This wasn't a good idea.

She stays there, though, and sips on the vodka some more, and lays her head back and watches the sky slowly changing color while she thinks about Jon. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe after he leaves she’ll be able to figure her shit out, because the way things are right now is that she can’t keep her head straight while thinking about Jon, and she needs to focus.

She’s got SAT prep, for fucks sake.

It’s darker now and she hears a noise on her left. Oh god, don’t let it be rats. Can rats even get up on roofs? If she sees a rat she’ll jump, that’s it, it’s over.

It’s just Jon.

He comes to sit next to her and she tries to keep her chill but her mind is absolutely screaming. How did he know she was here? Did he look for her? Oh my god did he look around for her because he missed her? Chill, you gotta chill, keep it together.

Remember he has a girlfriend.

Remember he’s leaving.

“So, why are you hiding up here?”

“Why are you missing your party?”

He scoffs, takes the bottle from her and takes a sip. “It’s not my party.”

“It kinda is your party too, and you know it.”

“It’s really not.”

“The sign literally says ‘Goodbye Robb _and_ Jon’. My mom baked you a cake.”

He laughs “Alright, so it sort of is my party. Can’t I catch a break from it?”

“Can’t _I_ catch a break from it?”

“No, you love parties.” He says, looking at her, sounding all serious. She hates it.

Sansa looks away, bites her lip. “Maybe I don’t like sad parties.”

“Is this your way of saying you’re gonna miss me?”

Shit, shit, shit.

It’s her turn to scoff now. She takes the bottle from him, takes a huge sip, tries to calm her mind. “Don’t think you’re so special. My big brother is leaving too, you know?”

“Please, you’re dying to get his room.”

She laughs. “Yeah, right, like mom is gonna let us anywhere near that room. Robb’s the perfect child, haven’t you heard? He’s never done nothing wrong is his life like, ever.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I know.”

They stay in silence. She wishes she knew a cool thing to say. She’s cool at school. Why can’t she be cool around Jon? Why does she always have to be awkward and not cool at all? She chances a look at him and she caughts him staring and she looks away immediately, blushing so hard her face feels like fire. She hears him let out a small sigh and he lays down on the roof. It’s very dark now, dark enough to see stars, and Sansa decides she’ll be brave. She takes another sip of the vodka, sets it aside, lays down next to him.

They’re really close, their hands almost touching, she can feel the whole left side of her body burning from his heat. She keeps her eyes on the stars. Maybe she should say something. She wants to say something. She’s gonna say something.

“Are you scared?”

What? Oh my god, why did she say that, why did she ask him if he’s scared? People don’t wanna talk about being scared right before the leave for college, oh Jesus, she should just roll off and accept the two stores fall as a blessing for being so lame.

“Kinda, yeah. I mean, I’m excited, obviously. And I’m worried a little, because it’s not like I can afford to fuck it up and lose the scolarship. But I am scared, yeah.” He pauses, takes a deep breath, she notices his hand shifts a little. “It’s just-Everyone I’ve ever met is here, you know? What if I hate my roommate? What if I don’t make any friends? What if everyone forgets me while I’m gone? Cause that’s like a thing, people drift apart when they go to college, and like, I don’t want to drift apart. I love it here. Winterfell is my home.”

“We’re your home too.”

Oh shit, did she actually say that?

“Really?”

It’s probably the vodka that makes her bold enough to say it. That makes her turn her head to him, only to find out that he is already looking at her. “Yeah, really. How could we forget you, dumbass? You’re one of us.”

She slides the dumbass in there to try and make it sound less cheesy but she means every single word she says. He’s one of them. They all grew up together. How could Sansa ever forget him?

He’s the first boy she’s ever loved.

He tries to bite back a smile but she can see he’s happy, and he turns his head away from her, back to the stars, right about the same time he takes her hand, their fingers intertwined. She looks at the stars too, can’t stop smiling.

“Thank you, Sansa.”

“You’re welcome.”

They stay in silence again, for a while, her hand is absolutely burning and Jon’s is caressing the back of it with his thumb. She has no idea what to do. She doesn’t even know if she wants to do anything. She’s just happy she’s here, next to him, hand in his, looking at the stars.

There’s a noise downstairs and a girl’s voice says Jon’s name. He doesn’t move. They hear it again. He sighs.

“We should probably get back.”

“You go first, I’ll be down in a minute.”

He doesn’t reply, but he holds her hand a little harder before letting go. She stays there, watching the stars, and soon she’s alone again, like she had wanted to be when she decided to come up.

Her hand is cold.

* * *

She’s eighteen when brother accidentally gets a girl pregnant in college and now they’re all planning a wedding.

It’s a mess, really, especially since Jeyne Westerling’s family basically disowned her, and Catelyn Stark is determined to give the girl the most amazing last minute wedding anyone has ever seen. That means recently graduated Sansa is elected to be the maid of honor and she has to spend her entire last week before the first year of college running errands with the best man. 

Obviously, the best man is Jon.

He takes the week off from his fancy internship down South and comes to Winterfell for the wedding. He looks so handsome. He has a full beard now. How the hell did that happen? She hasn’t seen him in a while and it’s totally unfair that he looks this handsome, like, all the time. It should be illegal. She’s pretty sure it is illegal to look this good, in some states at least, and she should tell him. But she won’t. She also notices the way he looks at her now, more openly, and she wonders if something happened in college to give him all this new confidence. Wonders if he would tell her if she asked.

They’re waiting for the flowers to get ready and the sweet old lady at the store makes a comment about how their babies will be absolutely lovely, with his black curls and her blue eyes, and that they should make sure to get as many pictures as possible for their memory albums.

Before Sansa can even think to correct the woman, Jon puts his arm over her shoulders and speaks. “You’re very sweet, but I’m also hoping that some of them will have her red hair. Her mother will kill me if they all look like me.” And he gives her a kiss on the cheek that’s dangerously close to her lips and she’s so fucking embarassed and blushing and flustered and the old lady wishes them a happy and long marriage while handing over the flowers. Jon thanks her, takes Sansa’s hand as they walk out, and he has a smug smile on his face all the way back to the house.

He keeps doing that during the week, taking her hand. And touching her, brush of an elbow, hand at her back, thigh pressed against thigh. It’s really annoying. And also super hot. She’s not sure if she wants to kill him or fuck him.

Probably both.

She reaches her limit during the reception. He actually has the nerve to ask her for a dance. A fucking dance. Jon Snow is asking her for a dance.

“You hate dancing.”

“That’s not true at all.”

“Yeah it is, you didn’t dance a single song at your prom. I was there, remember?”

“Oh, so you were paying attention?”

She blushes, _again_. Jon has a way of making her blush, making her flustered, making her want to rub her legs together and-

No. 

Don’t think about.

He offers a hand and she takes it. They dance all night, until her feet hurt so much, but even then she doesn’t stop. She’s having too much fun.

It’s only later, when they’re kinda tipsy with champagne - don’t tell her mom - and they’re sitting at the front porch, watching as some guests start to leave, that she feels bold enough to ask.

“Why did you lie to that old lady at the flower shop?”

“I didn’t lie, I played along. It’s different.”

She’s annoyed. He’s so annoying. But he’s also really pretty.“It’s not, Jon.”

“Of course it is, babe, you just don’t know it yet. Wait until you’re in college, you’ll be as good at playing along as I am.”

Babe.

_Babe._

Shut. Up.

“Alright, but why did you do it?”

“I don’t know, she seemed so happy. I didn’t want to let her down. Are you really that disgusted by the idea of being my baby mama?”

He cannot have said that. There’s no way. Like no way in hell Jon “Former Emo Kid” Snow just asked her if she would mind being the mother of his children while they’re sitting at her front porch on the day of her brother’s last minute wedding.

She can tell he realizes what he just said is kinda wild because his face goes totally red. She could make fun of him, god knows she’s been waiting for a chance for getting back on him for that day at the flower store, or she could brush it off and not make it weird, like the good friend she is.

There’s also a third option.

“I’m actually not disgusted at all.”

It’s not like she’s been saving herself for Jon Snow. She hasn’t. She flirted, she dated, she’s not even a virgin anymore - Harry didn’t exactly make her come, still - but the thing is: whenever she fantasizes about kids, about marriage and a house and a big family, the guy standing next to her is usually, well, Jon. It’s just a fantasy, she never actually thinks it could come true one day.

Maybe a part of her does.

Maybe a really huge part of her hopes it could.

He’s looking at her again, and she doesn’t look away. They have a little staring contest, not daring to speak, not daring to move, otherwise the moment might end and all that’s gonna be left is awkwardness and it’s hard to come back from that.

“We’re drunk.” he eventually says. Whispers, actually, and she instinct moves closer.

“Hmm, more like tipsy.”

He looks at her lips when she talks, his hand is over hers on the porch bench, he leans closer and closer and closer, and Sansa closes her eyes and waits.

His lips are soft at first, like he’s afraid she’ll realize what a bad idea this is. Except nothing feels bad, everything feels really good, and she lifts a hand to cup his cheek. Now it’s faster, his hand tangled in her hair, messing up her braid, his mouth open and hungry, his tongue hot against hers.

It’s like she had imagined.

No, wait, scratch that.

It’s better.

The front door opens, they jump, Arya looks like she might die from excitement.

“Robb’s throwing up on aunt Lysa’s dress, it’s hilarious, you have to come get him.”

She’s talking to Jon, obviously, and if she saw them kissing she keeps quiet but it doesn't seem like she noticed. Once again he goes while Sansa stays alone.

Her heart is on her hands.

* * *

She’s twenty and a month old.

There’s a crash.

Mom, Dad and Robb die.

She can’t breathe.

She can’t.

She has to breathe.

They’re gonna be fine. Arya just got into college, full soccer scholarship. Bran and Rickon will stay with uncle Edmure. They have insurance. They have money. They have good lawyers. They’ll be fine.

She’ll be fine.

She wishes she could die too.

Jon’s at the funeral, and somehow, with them both being in college and his job and her internship, they haven’t seen each other in almost two years. There was never a second kiss, only a few awkward texts and the implied arrangement that long distance wouldn't work. It doesn’t matter now. He holds her hand the whole time. He holds her hand until he doesn’t. Until he’s making sure Rickon behaves, until he’s clearing out plates at the house and talking to people, until he’s holding Arya while she screams in the backyard. He’s there with her, when she helps Jeyne puke in the guest bathroom, when she hugs uncle Benjen goodbye, when she tucks everyone in bed like they are all five and the two of them are left alone in that huge house that once felt like the most wonderful place on earth and now is just too quiet.

Only then she remembers that her room is now an office, and Robb’s old bed is too small.

“I can sleep on the couch.” He tells her, hands in his pockets, eyes uncertain.

“I can’t sleep alone.”

And it’s a lie. She could. What she can’t do is breathe, and she feels like at any second now she might die from holding it all in, so it’s alright that she takes him to the master suite. It’s alright that she kisses him like he’s oxygen. It’s alright that she lets him touch her, taste her, squeeze her, fuck her. It’s alright that she cries in his arms after, that she hears him crying as well, that they lay in the dark without speaking, holding onto each other for dear life.

It’s still very hard to breath but she manages it a little better.

She wakes up and his arm is circling her waist, holding her close to his chest like he’s afraid she would try to escape. She would go back to sleep, to pretending they’re the only thing that’s real, but she really needs to pee, and she’s also thirsty, and she can’t remember if they locked the front door before coming upstairs so she gets up, puts on his shirt, walks barefoot in the dark.

After, she’s walking back up slowly, her mind miles away, when she hears crying. It’s Rickon, his eyes are so red, so she picks him up like she did when he was just a baby, and she wakes up Bran and Arya and she takes them to their parents room. They don’t ask why she’s wearing Jon’s shirt, and she doesn’t care that they see the clothes on the floor. Jon wraps the sheets around himself and makes room and somehow they all fit, and it’s too hot and there’s not enough room to move but the five of them stay together and everyone sleeps.

She knows they’ll be fine.

Her hand is clasped with his.

* * *

She’s twenty two when she graduates and moves in with Jon.

Arya’s doing great in school and it kinda seems like she could go pro, as in multimillion dollar contract to play at an actual soccer team when she’s done with school pro. They’re all very excited, the boys especially.

She also has this really cute boyfriend named Gendry that they actually got to meet at uncle Edmure’s birthday and Jon threatened to beat him up while also teaching him how to juggle a soccer ball. Arya smiled through the whole thing, and later, they shared their first boy talk and she learned that Arya thinks she might be in love for real.

Sansa now texts her sister everyday.

Jon got a job transfer back to Winterfell a while ago and he has an apartment, but the house is still there. She asks him what to do. It’s hers, and Arya’s and Bran’s and Rickon’s, to do what they please, but she’s the oldest and almost everyone says she should sell it. It would make them good money, it’s a fancy house, with a fancy yard, the best house of the neighborhood. It’s also a house filled with ghosts, memories, dreams, wishes. It’s their home. It will always be their home.

So the two of them move in.

They have barely any furniture at first, not nearly enough from Jon’s old flat to fill up the house, and she notices he likes to use this at his advantage. They fuck on the floor a lot, on different spots, diferent rooms, diferent positions, and they slowly fill the house with new furniture and new memories.

She likes to think they’ll be very happy here.

She hopes they will.

* * *

He’s twenty six when he buys her the ring.

It’s almost December and the streets are covered in snow. He hides it inside the black glove on his way back from the store, the one she borrowed all those years ago, the one he never threw away even if it didn’t fit him anymore.

He hopes she’ll like it, hopes she’ll say yes.

The way she holds his hand when they walk home after dinner tells him she will.

**Author's Note:**

> Fluff, so much fluff! But of course I had to throw some angst in there cause that's just me 😂
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed it!
> 
> As always, English is not my first language and this work is unbetaed, so I apologise for any mistakes.
> 
> I'm @sansaravenclaw on Tumblr if you ever wanna chat!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Xxxxxxx


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